Passing Looks
by Lapis Love
Summary: The sequel to my first Bamon one-shot, One Look. They say beauty is in the eye of beholder and this vampire thought he had seen it all in terms of beauty until one night he saw the witch with new eyes and from that moment on, it was ON and he had to have her. He was determined to make her see what he saw and he wasn't going to fight fair.


**A/N: Hi y'all. This isn't a new story per se. Formerly titled The Second Look, this is the sequel to my first ever Bamon story One Look. (You might want to re-read that to kind of get the gist of what's happening, but you don't have to). Anyways, I posted this story two years ago but deleted it because at the time I had intentions to make it a multi-chaptered fic, but then I started working on some other stories. When I went back to re-read it I thought it was whack and took it down. So I'm reposting it because one, well two actually, of my dear and fabulous readers, ****monsters-are-pretty****, and ****Love'Joy 1990**** wanted to read it again. I've rewritten major parts of this one-shot and this is a ONE-SHOT so I hope you guys enjoy! Minor smut but not a lot.**

Disclaimer: These characters are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

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"_**Human beings are funny. They long to be with the person they love but refuse to admit openly. Some are afraid to show even the slightest sign of affection because of fear. Fear that their feelings may not be recognized, or even worst, returned. But one thing about human beings that puzzles me the most is their conscious effort to be connected with the object of their affection even if it kills them slowly within."**_

_**Sigmund Freud **_

He wasn't human. Hadn't been human for a hundred and forty-five years and not to sound like one of Anne Rice's tragic vampires, there were times he missed it, but plenty more times—like when his life was literally about to end—that he was thankful he had immortality on his side. Absolutely he was a taker of human lives, had spent more decades reveling in the fact he could bleed a person dry within minutes of sinking his fangs into hot human flesh, but even he could say that he had a deep affinity for humanity. And like humans, he feared getting too close to the object of his desire and affection.

Case in point the girl who was fast asleep in her bed.

Damon Salvatore didn't know how it happened but he certainly remembered _when _it happened. The moment Bonnie Bennett stopped being _that witch_ who had the uncanny ability that even when he did something right still made him feel like he did something wrong. He didn't know how she was able to lasso his attention away from her long-haired brunette best friend. He didn't know how he stopped looking at her as the judgmental sidekick who needed to get laid and get a life.

Wait, those were all lies because he did know how, where, and when things changed. Call him shallow, he could own up to his vanity and recognized the vanity in others, but it wasn't until he saw Bonnie editorialized as a femme fatale on a larger-than-life canvas that he truly saw _her _and what she kept wrapped up underneath layers of self-righteous morality.

He always saw, underneath that cold and standoffish veneer, that burning passion in her eyes whenever they would have one of their legendary disagreements. At the time, Damon was so caught up in trying to prove how smart, superior, and brilliant he was against her limited knowledge about the world outside of Mystic Falls to really take note. Just because she was able to gleam magical answers from a book that had seen better days, didn't make her better than him. It made her more powerful—yes, but not better, and Damon did everything in his power to undermine Bonnie at least when it was to his advantage.

Elena would tell him to stop being an ass. Stefan would brood and say be the bigger person. Damon didn't care what they had to say because he had something to prove to the witch who could look through him like glass.

No one could make Damon feel insignificant and not like the biggest threat in the room except Bonnie. And the fact she was only eighteen pissed him off, but did other things as well.

He smirked because he had her trapped now. On the surface they were the personification of night and day. Good versus evil but even Bonnie towed the line of doing something bad for a good cause.

Climbing into her room after she had fallen to sleep had become his nightly ritual. This of course was only possible after he wore her down and she finally invited him inside her domain. Damon couldn't help his grin of victory whenever he scaled the side of Bonnie's two story single family home, and pried her bedroom window open which she kept unlocked just for him.

Tonight she was sprawled out on her back, her mouth parted open and he could hear her breathing. He observed her for a moment, his gaze falling on the subtle rise and fall of her chest. The slight fluttering of her eyes, a tell-tale sign she was in the REM stage of sleep. Her hair was fanned out on her pristine white pillow, surrounding her like a halo.

His fingers deliberately graced the slope of her cheek before gliding toward her lips were he traced the shape of them.

Bonnie leaned into his touch but she didn't wake up.

Damon watched her for a moment longer, leaned down, and kissed her cheek. Quickly he divested himself of his leather jacket and kicked off his shoes. As he pulled the covers back, he grabbed Bonnie around the waist to pull her closer to him once he slid into bed next to her.

She sighed pleasantly and then coiled herself around him like a snake. One leg slithered over his, her head utilizing his chest as a pillow, her arm wrapping around his waist.

Damon kissed the crown of her head.

It was scary how much the feeling of peace enshrined him. It felt foreign every time he was alone with Bonnie yet at the same time it felt right—natural.

They had been dating almost exclusively for the last three months. Damon chuckled whenever he thought back to their first date where he practically ordered her to be ready by seven the following day after her pictorial debut. He really hadn't expected Bonnie to go anywhere with him, but when he showed up at her place and she opened the door wearing jeans and a dressy blouse, he was ready to complain she hadn't followed his orders to his exact specifications, but instantly shut his trap. Just getting her to agree was a milestone of its own.

**DBDBDBDBD**

Whistling, Damon sauntered his way to Bonnie's front door at exactly 6:59 p.m. He had a minute to spare, a minute more for Bonnie to enjoy her freedom for the night before she would be his for the evening. He knocked once and did a little dance while he waited for her to answer. When no instant reply came, he rang a tune with the doorbell knowing it would irk the shit out of her.

That went ignored as well.

Scowling, Damon reached for his phone and called her. It went straight to voicemail. Feeling his ire rising, Damon curled his hand into a tight fist and raised it to beat against the door.

And it chose that precise moment to open.

The scowl immediately left his face and its place was a panty singeing smile.

Bonnie, however, did not look overjoyed to see him. Damon knew he didn't imagine the chemistry that ricocheted between them last night at the art show. There were plenty of things in life a person could fake, but attraction wasn't one of them. Hardball, Damon reasoned, she wanted to play hardball.

Bonnie stood within the safe confines of her home trying to mask her inner nervousness. Her eyes ran up and down the length of her "date". Damon was dressed in typical head-to-toe black, but she had to confess that only Damon could make dark denim jeans and a V neck short sleeved shirt look like he was wearing a tailored Armani suit. Those jeans looked so good on him it should have been illegal, and his black V neck shirt clung to his pectorals like a crack head to a pipe.

Bonnie admonished herself. Do not give him the satisfaction of seeing you check him out.

Too bad, he caught her and grinned.

While she had been busy ogling him, his eyes did the same. He wasn't exactly thrilled with her outfit of choice. Didn't he say wear something tight and skimpy? Instead she wore a pair of dark blue jeans and yes they hugged her frame quite nicely, but she paired it with an emerald green blouse and camel riding boots. He had seen Bonnie dress in outfits similar to this one from the first day they met. Really, _he _wasn't worth a little more effort?

Apparently not, but moving on.

"We should set some boundaries in place," Bonnie began to which Damon rolled his eyes. Bonnie held up a finger. "If we should run into anyone we know…we're not on a date. We're merely brainstorming." Another finger went up. "If you at any point try to hug me, touch me, kiss me, or fondle me I will roast your chestnuts over an open flame. Good?"

Damon sighed. "Do you have any idea how stupid you sound?"

Anger flashed in her eyes and her chin jotted up higher. "Excuse me?"

She wasn't close enough for Damon to reach inside and yank her out so he ran the risk of Bonnie slamming the door in his face, and that he just couldn't allow. So he chose another route.

"This is supposed to be a fun adventure between a man and a woman. Now as a rule certain things are supposed to happen. All I ask is that you keep an open mind and let nature take its course. _Does_ that sound good?"

Bonnie thought over his proposal. She wasn't trying to be a pain in all honesty. The truth of the matter was…she just didn't trust herself being alone with Damon.

So far he had proven to be civil enough so what did she really stand to lose?

"All right, fine," she threw up her hands in resignation and then reached for her purse. Steeling herself she stepped out on the porch and closed the door behind her. "I'm ready."

Damon's grin was shit eating and Bonnie knew somewhere in that expression laid her demise.

"Our chariot awaits, madam."

Taking Damon's outstretched arm there was no turning back now.

Once Bonnie was seated in the passenger seat of Damon's car she immediately clammed up. It wasn't lost on her that she and Damon didn't have that many conversations that had nothing to do with ways to save Elena or overpower a common enemy. So it was safe to say she had no idea what the hell to talk about. School? Why would he care and she barely went as it was and when she was there, barely paid attention. Her focus had always been magic, learning spells and getting stronger. His hobbies? Bonnie was pretty sure she already knew what Damon liked to do in his spare time. Drink, screw, and chase after Elena.

So she kept her mouth shut for the first leg of their journey to wherever Damon was taking them. Her curious eyes wondered over and studied his hands and the way they gripped the steering wheel and the way he tapped a rhythm on his leg with his fingers while oldies from the seventies played from the radio.

He had nice hands and a strong grip. She learned that the other night while they danced. Bonnie's skin began to warm so she distracted herself by reciting the Greek alphabet in her head.

"You're being unnecessarily quiet," Damon shattered the silence. "Don't know if that's a good or bad thing but considering how much you like to talk I'm going to say it's a bad thing."

"Don't you find this whole thing…weird?" Bonnie snorted in disbelief and ignored his jab. "Why did you want to go out with me?"

Damon shrugged and briefly took his eyes off the road and looked at her. "Why did you want to go out with me?"

"I asked you first."

"I'm sure if I said I was doing this as my one good deed for the day you'd probably fry my brain, and demand I take you back home mindful I don't crash my car in the process."

Bonnie defensively folded her arms over her chest. "That's one possibility. Seriously, Damon…the only time we spend together is to figure out a way to save lives, and then half that time is spent with the two of us fighting."

"We don't fight. We aggressively fellowship," he grinned.

Green eyes climbed towards heaven. "Call it what you want, but I can count on one hand all the nice things we've said or done for each other since meeting," and Bonnie purposely made a fist to illustrate her point.

Damon chuckled. "You're forgetting that I did thank you for what I _thought _you did with the Gilbert device."

"Oh right," Bonnie slumped a little against the leather seat.

"And," Damon continued, "I didn't come after you after you purposely sat me on fire though I had nothing to do with Vampire Barbie losing control and killing that guy."

A blush settled on Bonnie's cheeks. Not one of her finer moments—granted and Bonnie could say she went a little too far. In her defense, she had just stumbled on her best friend, disheveled, lips and chin covered in blood with a dead body not a foot from her. Then Damon arrived all smug, she put the wrong variable together, and Bonnie snapped.

"Did I ask for an apology?" Damon queried and stared at Bonnie askance. He saw her frowning.

"No."

"I understood why you attacked me. Did I like it? Hell no. But I understood. Despite the way I come off I get it."

Bonnie brought her attention back to Damon and watched his profile trying her best not to get too distracted. If he wasn't such a monumental asshole she probably would follow him around and drool on his shoes. There was no point in arguing he wasn't good-looking, but she had always been able to look past his appearance and see the monster that resided within. Not that Damon went out of his way to disguise himself. At least not to her.

"So if you understand why I treated you the way I have…I still don't understand why you want to go out with me. Better yet…why won't you change? Aren't you tired of people only expecting the worst from you and always proving them right?"

Damon easily merged his car on the highway. He was wondering how long it would take Bonnie to realize he was leaving Mystic Falls.

"I didn't want to go out with you so you could psychoanalyze me, Sigmund Freud. But to answer your question…I don't care what people think of me because people will form an opinion about you whether you do bad, good, or nothing at all. And just because you might help an old lady across the street one day, and then let the elevator doors close in someone's face the next, does that make you bad, evil, good, a saint? All of that shit is subjective. What's good to you might be bad to me and vice versa. I get judged based on a human moral code. Newsflash, I'm not human."

Bonnie shook her head. "That's still not a valid reason to be a dick, but an excuse. I'm not a vampire but I'm sure even you have rules you don't break and a code you have to live up to."

"There's no rule book guiding what I am and if there was pfft. You want to know what true freedom is, Bonnie? It means letting go. It means not caring what people are going to say or think about you based on the choices you make for _your _life. It means putting yourself and your choices first."

"Being selfish and unapologetic."

"If that's what you want to call it. Sure let's go with that. I guess everyone expects me to be some kind of shining example because Stefan tries so hard to always do the right thing. Others expect me to follow. Nope. There's more than one way to skin a cat. If my way is more painful but the job still gets done, so what?"

Bonnie thought over his words. She could see Damon's point, but things couldn't be that simple. You couldn't do what you wanted simply because you wanted to do them especially if you were responsible for other people. There had to be some accountability.

But weren't there days that she just wanted to loiter in bed, not move a muscle, and just do something for herself? Plenty. But not wanting to disappoint those who depended on her is what made Bonnie pick up her phone whenever it rang and she was summoned to save the day. Even if that was the last damn thing she wanted to do she still did it, and deep down it made her feel good.

"All right," Bonnie ran her hands down the length of her thighs deciding to let that particular conversation go. "So where do you and I fit into all of this? You know what I am. You know what I stand for. Yet…you're…"

"Pursuing you."

"Why?"

Taking his eyes completely off the road, Damon bored right into Bonnie's eyes. "Because I can."

Swallowing the lump that suddenly formed in middle of her throat, Bonnie faced front and didn't recognize anything she was seeing.

"Where are we?"

"A place I come to when I need to be Damon Salvatore."

"I thought you were Damon Salvatore no matter where you are?"

"Well," he shrugged, "I do have a reputation to uphold and protect in Sunnydale…I mean Mystic Falls. Here…at Admiral's Lair I can let my hair down."

"You're taking me to a bar for our first…outing?" Bonnie almost said date but stopped herself.

Damon rolled his car to a stop in front of a white Georgian house with a well manicured front law. The house kind of reminded Bonnie of the Lockwood estate and she wondered if Damon was just making a stop because this certainly didn't look like a lair or a bar. Several other cars were parked out front and Bonnie wondered if whoever lived here was throwing a party.

The elder Salvatore was opening the car door for her before Bonnie knew what was happening and, keeping her eyes situated on the house and not Damon, Bonnie immediately felt a burst of magical power. It mingled with her own as if sniffing her like a dog trying to get a read on her. She didn't feel alarmed, a little taken off guard, but she didn't detect anything malicious.

Olive eyes flew up to Damon, pensively. "Does a witch live here?"

Damon nodded and then bounced up the steps to the front door and rung the bell.

Seconds later the door opened to reveal a robust scarlet-haired woman who reminded Bonnie of Missus Claus.

"Damon…long time, chere. You have a lot of nerve showing up here…and with such a beautiful doll, too. I almost feel insulted."

"You know you're my first love, Pauline," Damon presented his award winning crooked grin.

Slanted blue eyes rolled before going over to Bonnie combing her from the crown of her head to the soles of her boots. It was the first time Bonnie literally _felt _someone taking her measure and she couldn't say she liked it. However, there was one thing she had in common with Pauline; she was a witch, but not necessarily as powerful.

Pauline presented her rosy cheek for Damon to kiss which he quickly obliged and then stepped aside as she thrust her hand for Bonnie to shake.

The minute their fingers connected, Bonnie felt at ease but she was still very cautious. The only witches and warlocks she interacted with had had ulterior motives which unfortunately resulted in their death, a part from her cousin Lucy. It was a little discombobulating to be weary of her own kind, but she did feel a spark of kinship with Pauline though she didn't know a thing about her.

Damon watched their interaction carefully. Pauline came from a long lineage of spell casters but nothing of the Bennett caliber and if she was feeling threatened, Pauline had no bones about fighting or playing dirty.

"Nice to meet you, chere," Pauline said to Bonnie. "I'm Pauline Holbrook. Welcome to my home."

"Bonnie Bennett, nice to meet you, Pauline," the young witch said officiously.

"Bennett?" Pauline swung her attention back to Damon and narrowed her eyes.

"Yes, ma'am," Bonnie replied looking between the two trying to read the nature of their silent stare down.

To Bonnie, Pauline looked as if she was in her fifties or she might be in her sixties. Determining her age was a little difficult because her face was heavily made up. Thick black eyeliner gave her otherwise tired looking eyes a feline shape, false eyelashes fanned Bonnie every single time she blinked, and fire engine red lipstick embellished the shape Pauline's mouth. Underneath all that, Bonnie was sure Pauline probably resembled Marlene Dietrich in her heyday.

"You have been busy, Damon," Pauline's response was cryptic but she opened the door wider permitting the odd pair entry into her home.

"I see you haven't changed a thing," Damon remarked as he looked around at the decorated rooms that nearly transported him back to his childhood.

"If it ain't broke don't fix it. I like to consider this place a museum if you can note the irony of it all. So…how long have you known Damon, Bonnie?" Pauline led the way to the back of the house down a narrow hallway.

"A year and some change."

Pauline laughed and Bonnie didn't know if she should be insulted or not. She didn't get to ask any questions of her own because they were now taking a spiraling staircase down into the basement if Bonnie had to make a guess.

"Well if you've known him for that long and haven't killed him then maybe he has changed his stripes after all."

"I wouldn't count on that, Pauline. I still like being a bastard just for the hell of it."

"Please," the redhead witch dismissed his claim with a wave of her hand.

"Who said I didn't try?" Bonnie spoke up.

Pauline took a pause and looked at Bonnie again. She smiled a little in approval.

They had arrived at their destination and their hostess opened up one of the double doors that led to her private sanctuary. "Well, y'all came right on time. I was just about to begin tonight's lesson."

The doors were opened and Bonnie was greeted to not what she expected to see. What she had been expecting to see were topless women strutting around in clear heels and doing interesting tricks with their genitalia.

Not cooking stations and couples eagerly waiting to learn how to prepare a dish that would make Emeril or Giada proud.

Bonnie made eye contact with Damon who looked more than cocky that he was able to pull the wool over her eyes. "We're going to take a cooking class?"

"Yeah. Expecting a strip club? This is the place I come to let my hair down. My culinary hair down," he clarified.

Bonnie laughed and then Pauline shooed her and Damon off to the last available cooking station in the basement that had been converted into a state of the art kitchen.

This being her first date with a vampire it was almost _too _human and Bonnie automatically loved it.

She and Damon washed their hands and then listened to Pauline's instructions while they prepared two appetizers: tequila battered onion rings and chipotle chicken sweet potato skins. Naturally Damon cheated with the tequila and helped himself to several shots and even convinced Bonnie to do a couple. For their entrée they cooked white cheddar chipotle chicken sliders and washed it down with cherry flavored sangrias.

Dessert became interesting and had Bonnie drinking copious amounts of water. She might have been slightly inebriated but that wasn't the reason why her body temperature had spiked and nearly crashed through the roof. That night she learned how to make home made pie crust. With Damon standing behind her, talking in her ear, guiding her on how to knead the dough, working his hands over hers, fingers sliding between hers, as they manipulated the shape until it was to his liking, his lips occasionally brushed against the shell of her ear while his crotch sometimes ground into her ass. Feeling Damon surround her from all angles it was a miracle Bonnie hadn't evaporated in the air or became a puddle of goo.

Had his voice always been that deep? Had he always smelled that good?

Most of the night her focus was on his hands. It wasn't until now that Bonnie realized just how nice Damon's hands were and loathed to admit it, they felt even better than they looked. When he touched her she tingled in places where no activity had been happening for an appallingly long time.

She should have been aggravated by the effect he was having on her, but she couldn't.

Who knew cooking could be so erotic or seductive.

Damon knew the effect his proximity would have on Bonnie and that's why he purposely hoarded her space. He did that with nearly everyone, but with her he stood closer than he normally would, and deliberately lowered his voice an octave anytime he addressed her. He had given her plenty to think about during their drive, but the one thing he couldn't escape was that as much as he may have wanted to affect Bonnie, he too, was being affected.

He caught a few of the other guys who had dates, by the way, giving Bonnie second glances, eyes lingering too long on her shapely attributes. Attributes it had taken him too long to see for himself. The sound of her voice, when she wasn't using it to harp at him was soothing, the kind he could listen to for hours and not get tired of hearing it. But it was her smile, something that was a bit of a rarity these days, threatened to weaken the concrete wall he kept his true self enshrined in.

When Bonnie did something right she smiled until she was damn near glowing, and even when she flubbed one of the recipes she still smiled because it wasn't a life or death situation and no one was going to die just because she messed up. But she listened to him without complaint, looked at him for guidance, showed that she trusted him.

It had been a while since anyone treated him like a person, not like he had gone out of his way to treat people like people, but the point of the matter was: he didn't have to pretend with Bonnie.

Maybe asking her out hadn't been a good idea, Damon was beginning to wonder. _This _Bonnie was making him yearn for a simpler life and they had only been in each other's company for three fucking hours!

Their black forest cream pie was finished and smelled the sweetest and looked the most edible out of the class. Everyone wanted a sample leaving only a single slice left to which Bonnie said:

"We can share."

So they did, fork and all.

"Thank you for bringing me here, Damon. I can't remember the last time I had this much fun and all we did was cook. I hate cooking."

"Because you didn't know how to do it," he replied with a wink.

Bonnie pursed her lips and then cocked her shoulder. She knew how to cook the basics but mostly supplied her diet at The Grill. "Why do you love cooking?"

Damon licked whipped cream from the corner of his lip before answering. "I can take simple ingredients and create a masterpiece. I don't know. In my crazy life its one of the few things I can control."

"And you're all about control."

"So are you," Damon rebutted which earned him a droll look. "Do you have any idea how uptight you can be sometimes, Judgy?"

Bonnie opened her mouth as Damon fed her another bite of their well-crafted dessert. She chewed. "I think your definition of uptight is far different from mine. Do you know what would happen if I lost control and allowed my magic to take over?"

"I've been around my share of witches but they all knew how to have fun. They only had about half of your power but they had skill and they weren't just _witches. _Some of them were dancers. Others—actresses. One was a famous painter and writer. They just didn't focus on being a witch and being the best witch they could be. They lived," Damon widened his eyes.

"And I'm pretty sure it was far easier for them to _live_ because they didn't have a best friend who's a doppelganger of a crazy vampire bitch."

A corner of Damon's eye squinted. "Well…no…but I'm sure even if they did, they still wouldn't have allowed that to stop them from seeing the world and doing what they wanted."

"It's so easy for everyone on the outside looking in to say what they would or wouldn't do. I have this power and for me not to use it to help people…I just can't do it." Bonnie fixed her eyes on Pauline and nodded her head in her direction. "I take it she knows about my family."

Damon nodded. "The Bennett's are famous."

"And infamous at the same time. I don't want to end up like my ancestors, but it seems that my fate has been sealed."

"No it hasn't," Damon quickly refuted. "You only think it has because you're eighteen. Teenagers as a whole always think you're going to die if something doesn't happen at the time it's supposed to happen."

"So what should I be doing with my life, Damon? I pretty much just do what you and your brother tell me though you try to dress it up as if you're _asking _me to do something."

Placing the fork down, Damon grabbed the legs of the stool Bonnie was perched on and dragged her closer until her legs were situated between his own. Staring into her surprised emerald eyes, he dipped his to her mouth. He listened to her blood rushing through her veins right to her heart.

"Then you tell me and my brother to go to hell."

Bonnie laughed. "As if you'd listen."

"Probably wouldn't. You have the power. _Use_ it."

He could have meant one thing or a thousand different things but Bonnie understood the gist of what Damon was suggesting.

"You can't get mad at me if I do," Bonnie said. "I'd only be taking your advice."

"I'll probably still get mad but it'll be interesting to see what punishment you dish out," Damon wiggled his eyebrows and then kissed Bonnie on the neck catching her completely off guard.

Bonnie attempted to cover up her hiss with a cough and failed miserably. Her cheeks were molten causing her to slide her stool back to give herself some breathing room.

Once the pie was finished and their station cleaned, Bonnie said her good bye's to Pauline and promised to see her again.

The drive back to Mystic Falls was a lot lighter and they kept the topic of discussion focused solely on the events of the night.

It was just a little after midnight when Damon pulled into her neighborhood. Bonnie's street was blissfully empty of any bystanders.

They stared openly at each other and Bonnie felt herself blushing for the umpteenth time and she was getting sick of it. She licked her lips, played with her fingers, and wondered if this was the part where she was supposed to thank Damon for showing her a lovely time, climb out of his car, and walk calmly to her front door without looking back.

All night Damon thoughts ran along two courses: should I taste her now or wait until later? The later was now and Bonnie didn't seem to be in a rush to leave his presence so he took the initiative by leaning over the console.

Not at all prepared for that, Bonnie thrust herself against the door. She laughed nervously, pushed her hair behind her ear, and faked a yawn.

"Thank you, Damon. I had fun tonight."

The muscle in his jaw ticked at her rejection. Had he misread something? "I'll walk you to your door."

The iciness of his tone was like taking a wet towel to the face.

This walk to the door hadn't been like the one the night before. There had been tension but it was sexual tension. This tension was negative and it was all her fault to which Bonnie wanted to kick herself. Damon had behaved himself all night so where was the harm in allowing him one little kiss? But the stupid rational part of her mind said that giving into her desires could only lead to bad things. Why wouldn't her head leave her alone and let her have some fun every once in a while? Fun? Remember that brain? Bonnie demanded as she walked silently beside Damon.

He was as quiet as a graveyard and came no farther than the bottom of the porch this time. "Sleep tight," he said, the strain of rejection still evident in his tone.

Bonnie's eyes fluttered closed in regret.

Damon hit the sidewalk the minute her key hit the lock. He was already behind the wheel when she flicked on the hall light.

He waited for her to turn back to face him. She did and gave a wave. He threw the gesture back and gunned the engine to life.

Bonnie stopped as she heard his car pull away from the curb. Cursing, she dropped her purse right there on the floor, ran down the steps to the sidewalk.

"Damon! You forgot your good night kiss!"

He had driven probably no more than fifty feet when he heard what Bonnie said. He instantly slammed on the brakes, got out—did he even put the car in park? and was running down her street back towards her.

As soon as he rounded the corner of her yard, his arms were full of Bonnie. She had jumped on him. Legs around his waist, arms around his neck, her ass in his hands, their lips pressed together heatedly.

His lips were surprisingly warm, his tongue was cold though some vague part of Bonnie's mind thought, but the way he jabbed it in and out of her mouth made her think instantly of another part of his anatomy doing that same action—elsewhere.

But their lips molded and meshed perfectly as if they had been specifically designed to kiss only each other.

This kiss was freaking awesome and well worth the twenty-four hour wait, Damon mused as he drank in her moans of pleasure, refusing to let her pull away to catch a breath. He hadn't gotten his fill and he figured he never would. Not in this lifetime.

**BDBDBDBDB**

"Damon," she murmured sleepily.

He glanced down at his girlfriend, but from his position he could only make out part of her profile. Bonnie wasn't awake yet.

"Shush," he whispered.

"…need…damon…"

Heat immediately gripped his body and he held Bonnie a little tighter.

Three months they've been together yet hadn't consummated a damn thing.

Damon could exercise patience where patience was due, but Bonnie had to know his balls were beginning to resemble an eggplant right about now.

And she didn't help matters at all!

Each day he discovered something new and sexy about her. He learned that she liked to lick her ice cream cone from the base up. He almost sprayed his shorts the first time he saw her eat one. Now that the weather was warm Bonnie preferred to wear tight, cleavage hugging shirts and cut off shorts that hugged her ass his hands couldn't get enough of squeezing. Bonnie was ticklish in certain places, liked listening to Celtic music while she showered, and had a slight obsession with Trey Songz. And Damon also learned that Bonnie smelled freaking awesome even after coming back from the gym with her gal-pals all sweaty and out of breath.

The blue-eyed devil had never been jealous of workout equipment until now.

But he had to concede they did _some_thing's.

Fevered kisses, hand jobs, finger jobs, boob sucking it was all great…

Just not enough.

And he could forget about drinking her blood.

That was out of the question.

However, when Bonnie wiggled against him in her sleep and said those two little words: need Damon, he became a sucker and fell for her shit every time. He'd please her until she saw stars. She'd smile contently, and then roll over and fall back to sleep like nothing ever happened.

Some nights she returned the favor.

Other nights she merely used him for partial stud services and left him to his own devices.

Her eyes fluttered as if she was struggling to wake up prompting him to loosen his grip in case she was about to turn over. Then her little hand began to rub circles on his belly until it slowly began to descend and cupped him through his jeans.

Damon groaned, closed his eyes, as his head fell back and butted against the headboard.

Slowly Bonnie was gaining control of her motor functions and her lips found his neck and began to nibble before latching on to suck.

"Need…Damon…" she repeated as she blindly began to unbutton his jeans. He assisted her with the zipper, didn't need any accidents happening. Her tiny hand delved inside, fingers running through the coarse hair before brushing against the bulbous tip of his phallus.

His body jerked at the contact. Damon spread his legs to help assist her ministrations. She was taking advantage of him and he should really stop this, but…whenever Bonnie touched him he became putty in her hand.

Speaking of hands.

One began to pull up his shirt, exposing his abs. Bonnie's mouth found its way to his abdominals and she licked and traced each chiseled muscle with the tip of her tongue. Pushing his shirt higher until his nipples were exposed, Bonnie latched on like an infant.

He cursed—_loudly_.

Bonnie continued to torture him with playful grabs of his Johnson while her mouth ravished his chest mercilessly. Before he knew it, she was straddling him, completely fisting him and pumping slowly, methodically.

Damon had to get control. He grabbed Bonnie by the arms and flipped them over.

The second her back hit the mattress Bonnie's eyes popped open. She was lucid long enough to see a pair of pink lips rushing forward to steal her breath.

Bonnie was confused but then not so. She thought she had been dreaming about Damon, kissing him, but he really was here. She gripped him by the shoulders and wrapped her legs around him.

"I'm not dreaming," she said when their lips parted and Damon busied himself with kissing and licking her neck, shoulder, and clavicle.

"You're not," he confirmed against her hot flesh. He pulled down a strap of her camisole revealing a nipple. Damon greedily took it in his mouth. Bonnie arched against him—moaning.

They had to stop. She could feel him against her center, probing it.

But she wasn't ready. _They _weren't ready for this.

Grabbing tuffs of his ink black hair, Bonnie pulled his mouth away from her breast. Damon frowned.

"What?" he heaved.

"Not tonight," she said simply.

He took her lips again to try to convince her otherwise. Bonnie allowed him to invade her mouth with his tongue for a minute while his hands roamed her body freely, cupping her through her panties, yet she pushed him away the second he slid a finger inside.

Damon groaned in defeat, reached in between them to stuff his member back into his pants. He fell over and landed on his back and glared up at the ceiling.

It was getting harder to resist her everyday.

"You are such a damn tease, Bonnie. I came over here just to hold you and you took advantage of me, feeling me up and now…" he attempted to joke about it but was too irked to finish his thought.

Bonnie fixed her clothes while sitting up in bed. "I'm sorry, Damon," and she really was.

He looked away from her. The want was too strong, wouldn't go away, fade, or leave him alone.

"Maybe…we should take a break from the sleepovers. I want you more than anything, but I'm just not ready."

He'd heard that argument so many times Damon was starting not to believe her. However, he couldn't ignore the fact he was intense, came on too strong, and was a lot to handle. He was a lot to handle even for women who had been around the block so he could only imagine how he made Bonnie feel. She shied away at times and permitted certain allowances, but she never let him get too carried away. There invariably had to be a balance between them. He could kiss her, touch, suck her skin into his mouth, but he couldn't fuck her.

Damon rubbed the bridge of his nose. His body no longer felt like Mt. Vesuvius but was now a quiet simmer.

"Are we ever going to get past this hurdle?" he questioned. He spoke the words as softly as he could muster but they still sounded harsh.

Bonnie found his eyes in the darkness of her room and felt her defenses rising. Typical side effect whenever they discussed their lack of a sex life. "Look if all you want to do is bang something into oblivion, there's the door. No one's stopping you."

His jaw ticked. "If I leave I'm not coming back," Damon slung out his old tired threat. They both knew he wasn't going anywhere.

Bonnie snorted. "You wouldn't be able to last a day without me, Salvatore."

The horny vampire leaned up on an elbow, mouth agape. "You think you're some great catch?" his voice incredulous.

Bonnie's grin was smug. "I know I am. This'll be the best ass you'll never tap."

Damon threw his head back and laughed sarcastically. "How highly we think of ourselves, Bennett."

Bonnie leaned towards him, their lips nearly touching. "You know it's like a vacuum, Damon. That's how tight and warm it is."

He tried his best to keep his expression neutral and was pretty proud of himself he could hold his blank mask for a grand total of five seconds before he whistled lowly under his breath.

"But if you think you can do better," she interrupted the mini-fantasy he was having, "I'm sure I'll be able to find someone who's willing to wait on a good thing. I hear Mason is single. I've seen him checking me out."

Before the sassy witch could even grin, Damon had her pinned against the mattress. His hands gripped Bonnie's wrists above her head, scowling at her.

"You go anywhere _near_ that mutt and I'll rip you both to shreds."

"Promises, promises," Bonnie said lazily belying her fear. She knew Damon would do it too, just to prove a point.

Damon's body all the while had fallen into the dips and crevices of her body, uniting them. He vaguely took note of that somewhere in the back of his mind and felt himself harden all over again.

Bonnie was at his mercy.

His eyes bled to black, his fangs elongated and he really felt Bonnie squirm against him.

"Damon, don't!" she practically screamed.

"Bonnie!"

Damon cursed, shot out of Bonnie's bed and disappeared right when the door to her room flew open. Bonnie scrambled to cover herself with her sheets.

Her dad flicked on the bedside lamp, flooding the room with light. The sudden brightness stung Bonnie's eyes and she blinked rapidly against the invasion.

"Baby, what's wrong? I heard you screaming."

"Bad dream," she replied. "I'm fine now."

Rudy Hopkins stared at his daughter skeptically for a moment. He saw the flushed tint to Bonnie's skin, and that her eyes looked a little too startled to give off the impression she was fine. Rudy checked around her room, and saw that the window was open. He marched towards it, shut it, and locked it for good measure.

When he approached Bonnie, he cupped her shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze.

"Try to get back to sleep," he suggested, plunged the room into darkness, and left.

Not two seconds later, there was tapping outside her window.

Bonnie rolled out of bed, parted the curtains but refused to open the window. Damon glared at her.

"Open up," he demanded.

"No, you tried to bite me."

"I wasn't going to bite you."

"Lying to me while you're cowering in a tree is not a good idea, Damon. You were going take my blood against my will."

"No, I wasn't. I was only trying to prove a point."

"Yeah? Well point made. Go home, Damon."

She snapped the curtains shut.

"Bonnie!"

She ignored him.

"You know I have other ways of getting inside your house, chick. Don't push me."

Thunder boomed and lightning flashed suddenly. Damon knew that would be his only warning if he didn't heed his girlfriend's advice to go home.

"So I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked cheekily and another flash of lightning, this one seemingly closer than the former was his answer.

Taking the shape of the crow, Damon flew over the coo-coo's nest.

**A/N: Let me explain about the Mason comment. In One Look, Bonnie and Mason are friends. That particular story wasn't exactly following canon and really had nothing to do with any of the storylines that had taken place during S2. But in the original version of this, Damon had taken Bonnie to this loft and took pictures of her before riding on horseback to a restaurant. Reading it just made me cringe and at the time it was written I didn't really know their characters all that well. But I hoped you guys enjoyed this. Thank you for giving it a shot. Remember this is a ONE-SHOT and nope can't be persuaded to add more because my plate is cracking because it's too full. Thank you guys again for reading! Love you!**


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